More Than You Know
by Madam RedRose25
Summary: It's been a month into Stan and Cartman's relationship but Stan still wants reassurance from his new love that he cares about him. So does Cartman. The two decide to dig deeper into their feelings and in the end, both are surprised at what they find.


**MORE THAN YOU KNOW**

_A/N__: Sequel to Why Must I be a Teenage Boy in Love?_

Late June. A time that meant school was finally out and millions of kids around the world rejoiced in this favor. The sun would be beating down on their backs as they relaxed by a pool or beach, sun-bathed, or went on a vacation of their choice. For kids in South Park Colorado however, it meant cold. The weather did not differ very often and even though summer had begun, large rolling clouds hung in the sky and a cold breeze whistled its way into the ever-expanding suburbia town. Currently a teenage boy with messy black hair and a brown jacket was leaning against the wall of Ice Cream Joe's, tapping his foot on the brick and rolling his eyes as he sung words to a song under his breath. The person inside said ice cream parlor was taking their jolly sweet time.

The door finally opened and a rather large boy with brown hair wearing a red jacket came out with two desserts. The thinner boy- Stan, rolled his eyes.

"_Finally_, god, I thought you ordered yourself the Never-Ending Ice Cream Bowl and forgot all about me."

"Hold your horses you prick," the other boy- Cartman retorted and handed over an ice-cream cone topped with two giant scoops of cookies n' cream and birthday cake ice cream. Stan took his cone and began licking away as they took a seat by the curb.

Cartman was already gorging himself in what had to be the largest banana split known to man with extra whipped cream on top. Stan bit into his ice cream as he looked over at Eric Cartman. The two had been dating for almost two months now and sometimes Stan wondered if he was crazy to ever consider a relationship with his friend. Cartman had hardly changed from the racist dictator he knew too well from preschool to how he was today. But then Stan reminded himself he had made the right decision. He and Cartman shared many similarities and could give each other what they needed. Whether Stan needed a shoulder to cry on or just wanted to talk about baseball, Cartman was there. He had decided to tell his parents only a month ago whom he was going out with. To say Sharon and Randy Marsh were surprised was an understatement. They knew their son had been gay for months, just not gay for the rudest pick of his friends.

Cartman on the other hand knew he wouldn't be able to keep Stan his little secret for long so he allowed him to tell his parents. He himself finally came out to his mother around the same time. Liane was shocked her only son was gay, but she promised to support him in anything he did. She was just happy he had already found a relationship in his good friend Stanley. Currently, Cartman looked over for he could feel Stan's eyes on him.

"What?" he snapped.

"Nothing, is it not okay to look at you?"

"Well if _you're_ doing it it's fine. But why?"

Stan shrugged as he took a bite that contained a large bit of cake from his dessert. "Just want to."

"Fine, but only if I get to stare at you in turn."

Stan smiled. Cartman took time to examine his boyfriend's face. That long dark hair, those large, expressive blue eyes, that perfect nose, those lips curving into a smile where a flash of metal from a retainer shown. All of it was perfect. The fact that he could now stare at Stanley Marsh and not make up excuses for it felt amazing. But then his banana split called his name and he returned to it.

"Sometimes I wonder if you like me more or ice cream," Stan noted.

"Pff, of course I prefer you. The real question dick face is if I like you more or Cheesy Poofs."

Stan socked him. "Not cool dude."

"Well what do you like more: me or cookies?" Cartman winked.

Stan opened his mouth then shut it.

"Dumbass," Cartman chuckled.

The two sat there for a little while, enjoying their snack. Cartman then turned to Stan.

"So… do you know anything new?" he asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Vacation. Does your family have any plans or not?" Cartman demanded.

"Oh, I dunno. I mean, we all still want to go to Hawaii but I don't know. Nobody but Dad _really_ wants to go. Mom says it'll be too expensive and there's not enough time to plan all we need to have planned if we're going to be on vacation for three weeks. She still wants to go to California like we try and do every few years or so."

"Where would you be staying?"

"My Aunt Maggie and Uncle Paul's of course, as always."

Cartman stuffed his mouth with cherries. "What do you want to do?"

Stan shrugged. "California probably. Family's out there. Sure it's the only place we really go for the summer but it never gets old. As much as I love cold weather I can't say no to going to the beach and walking along the pier or going to Disneyland. Plus it might be one of the last times I get to see my cousin Cole before he heads off to collage in a couple years."

Cartman didn't look at him. "I don't know if I can last three weeks without you dude."

"Why not? I've gone on summer vacation for three weeks before," Stan frowned.

"Have you had to leave a lover behind those times? No."

"Oh, right…"

"I mean, now that everyone knows I'm a fag, they're going to really let me have it. Not like I care, I can kick their asses any time," Cartman growled. "But since so many people gave up on me in high school… you're the only person I really have left."

Stan sighed. "Don't get sentimental on me now man; it's only been two months."

"Has that not been a good enough two months for you?" Cartman spat.

"Relax you fucking bull. It has. Trust me; I'm going to miss you too. A lot. A whole lot. You're my first and only…"

Cartman sighed as he tossed aside his empty banana split tray and placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Yeah, yeah. You're my first and only too."

They kissed. Stan sighed.

"_Now_ what?" his boyfriend sure was an emotional sissy at times, no doubt.

"Nothing. There are just some- some questions you've still never answered for me. For years. About us. And now that we're together, I think it's time we're finally open and honest about our feelings, past and present."

"I'm not good on that shit Stan," Cartman commented.

"C'mon, I don't want to live in lies anymore. I really want to know your reasons behind things. I have my own I'm sure you want to know too. How can we be together if we can't talk about us?" Stan demanded.

"We don't need to. We're together now, who cares?"

"_I_ care asshole. For starters, I still want to know why you chose to write about me years ago for that Christmas story in fourth grade," Stan frowned.

"Oh not that," Cartman moaned.

"Yes that. You've been giving me ten different answers since then, none of them seem true."

Cartman didn't look at Stan's beautiful eyes now. "Well what I want to know is your true feelings for me too. You've tried so hard to ignore anything I ever say or do, I don't know if I ever really… made an impact or not."

Stan took hold of Cartman's thick hand. "You obviously have Cartman. You've defiantly gotten my attention over time. I care about you; I don't even want you to doubt it for a minute."

Cartman closed his hand over the thinner one. "But it's hard. It's hard to believe. All your life you've gone from Wendy to other girls before finally admitting you were a fag. No matter who you were with you were the lucky one. You know what I see in you, others see it too. You're good at everything. Meanwhile I've been on the fucking backburner, seeing you growing closer to the Jew and other people you've only know for a day whereas you've known me since you were fucking three-and-a-half!"

"What's your point?"

"I'm the unlucky one. I still can't believe you chose me over everyone else. Over the Jew who's been your butt buddy since preschool."

"Kyle's not gay Cartman, that's why. And I don't find him attractive in that way," Stan said calmly.

"Or Travis."

"Travis is straight too." Stan rubbed his thumb over the upside of Cartman's hand. "Sure you're right that you've been a jerk our whole lives, but you have someone now. Me. You _are_ lucky."

Cartman still looked uneasy. "Maybe we should have that talk after all."

Stan got to his feet. "My house?"

"Sure man."

Stan felt bad for Cartman. He still didn't think he deserved him. He would have to somehow make Cartman realize he did care about him all those years before. Then maybe he'd be able to stop being the sissy one over such a topic. He held his hand the whole walk to Bonanza Street and made sure to make eye-contact. Stan grabbed two sodas from the fridge when he got home and went up to his room where Cartman was waiting. He smiled upon entering. Cartman sat on his bed playing with one of Stan's cats, Basha. Stan tossed a Pepsi his way.

"Thanks," Cartman mumbled.

Stan sat on a chair facing him. "So, where should we start?"

Cartman looked up. "What do you want to know first?"

Stan tapped his fingers on his own can of Pepsi. "Have you always, thought of me in a different way? You are so difficult to read when it comes to feelings. I can never tell your true intentions. What did you think of me all those years ago?"

"Well, going back to preschool, I thought you were a pussy. Still do so that's never changed."

Stan rolled his eyes. "As a friend, what did you think of whenever you thought of me?"

Cartman groaned dramatically. "As a friend, you were all right. Always hanging with the Jew. I guess you could say, from the beginning… I was a bit- jealous."

Stan's eyes widened. "Really? You were jealous of Kyle and I?"

"Well you only did everything together! Once you 'accepted' me as your friend at your fourth birthday party I thought I would be getting some of the action! I thought I'd be your good friend too!" Cartman yelled.

"Well it was kind of hard to let you in when you were such a jerk to us!" Stan argued back.

"You know how I am by now Stan! That shouldn't have mattered!"

"Yeah, now. How the hell was I to know that when I was four?"

"You just were!" Cartman banged a fist on the bed startling the tabby.

"I did get a funny feeling around you at times. Guess I didn't pay attention to it before but now when I think back on it…"

"Dude, remember all the fun we had when it was just us? Playing video games together? Messing around on that guy's boat before it crashed into the dam? All of the pranks we pulled on our sixth grade teacher Mr. Straters?" Cartman said looking hopeful.

Stan cocked a grin. "Yeah, those were all fun."

"I did like you as a friend Stan even if you somehow thought I didn't."

Stan sighed. "What about all the other times? What about when I was ten and you made me fall out a tree and break my leg? You think I can forgive you for that?"

"That was an accident dude, I told you a million times," Cartman waved a lazy hand.

"Hardly! You knew I was on that branch and you still shook it! You never apologized for putting me in crutches for over six weeks!" Stan spat.

"That was six years ago man."

"What about this then?" Stan raised his right arm to show a scar running along on his wrist joint. "It was just fun and games when you pushed me from those boulders and created a huge gash in my hand right? Because every friend likes to know they gave their friend ten stitches and a scar to last a life-time!"

"That was also an accident you pussy!"

Stan growled. "What the fuck is wrong with you Cartman? Really? You think I hesitate at times when it comes to us? It's because of this, it's because of memories I shouldn't have if you really cared about me that make me want to take a step back."

Cartman looked slightly nervous. "I did and still do care about you Stan, beside those examples."

"Oh yeah?"

"Well… when we were nine… and you had that horrible asthma attack on the way to school…"

"You're really going to use _that_ as an example of caring about me? It's because of you that the ambulance came later and I had already passed out!" Stan was fuming.

"I did apologize for it though."

Stan rolled his eyes.

"And… and… well, after visiting you in the hospital that night, I went home and- well, I was grateful you were alive."

Stan raised a brow but allowed him to continue.

"It scared me man, it really did," Cartman's voice shook. "I thought I really might loose you. And knowing it was partially my fault… I couldn't bear to think that my friend died from a severe asthma attack because I didn't allow the Jew to call 9-1-1 soon enough. I didn't _really_ want you to suffer. I only ever wanted the Jew to suffer. I'm so sorry I landed you in the hospital that time dude, I don't think I can ever get over it."

Stan looked down and took his hand. "Well… if it helps, I was probably going to be hospitalized anyway. My lung had collapsed."

"But if I had called the ambulance sooner they would have gotten there sooner and you wouldn't have passed out!"

"Maybe… but, I told you before that my lung had already collapsed before you began to stall time."

"Dude, you could have died that morning," Cartman looked generally upset.

"I know."

"And it would have been my fault."

Stan didn't say anything.

"Before I went to bed I thanked any fucking god out there that you were alive. I didn't want to loose one of the coolest kids I knew."

Stan chuckled. "I was even cool when I was nine then?"

"Totally dude. Sure your stubbornness got in the way but you were cool. You began taking guitar lessons, really got into baseball, everything."

Stan smiled and relaxed against Cartman. "How else did you show you cared about me when we were younger?"

"C'mon man, I'm not good at this shit," Cartman mumbled.

"I know but I want to hear. Tell me and I'll tell you anything you wanna know."

Cartman sighed. "Fine. Let's see… oh! We'll go for the obvious- how I am practically your personal cheerleader at every baseball game."

"You're right, that's too obvious. Offering to carry my bag that one time? C'mon, both of us knew that was awkward," Stan noted.

"Maybe."

"Continue."

Cartman sighed. "I guess I'll go with your number one burning question: my true intentions with that stupid Christmas story I wrote years ago."

Stan's ears perked up.

"I mean, there's not a whole lot to say. We had to write a Christmas story. I was looking around the classroom trying to find inspiration. Then I saw you. You were just sitting there tapping your pencil to your lip. I could tell you couldn't come up with something interesting to write. I dunno, I just decided to write about you. As I watched you chewing on the end of your pencil I thought of animals. I wanted to write some fucked up story about animals and Christmas. And you being the lame animal activist you are"-

"I'm not an 'activist'," Stan gritted his teeth.

"Whatever, you're still a hippie. So I just wrote about you and fucked up animals on Christmas. Nothing else to it really."

"What I find interesting though is why you gave me a happy ending."

"What the fuck?" Cartman turned around to face him.

"You had Kyle die in the end, Kenny wasn't even mentioned. Yet I had a happy ending. I wanted a happy ending consisting of going back home and celebrating Christmas with my family and you gave me that."

"Well why the hell not?" Cartman demanded.

"Nothing, I just found it- nice. It made me happy that you gave me what I wanted in the end," Stan smiled slightly.

"Well I only put you through a lot of shit in my story, I thought you sort of deserved, a good ending," Cartman didn't want to look at him now. Damnit he was no good at talking about his feelings at all! That _stupid_ hippie!

"It was a good story," Stan shrugged.

"I can't believe you liked it though. When you told me after class that you loved it, I was really shocked."

"Did you _want_ me to like it?" Stan smiled lovingly.

"Maybe a little…" Cartman faked a cough. "This is getting really lame now Stan. I can't do this anymore. _You_ prove to me I was more than just fatass to you."

Stan sighed; he wanted to hear more from his lover but knew it was best to just answer Cartman. He took a sip from his soda before talking. "Okay… oh, I know of something that worried me about you."

Cartman was eager to hear stories from Stan where he was concerned over him in his life. He still had to hear it from him that he wasn't just with him out of pity.

"Remember when you were really stupid when you were nine? Well, that's actually very vague…"

"Shut it fagbutt!" Cartman snapped.

Stan ignored this. "You thought you could pretend to fly off your roof?"

Cartman thought. "Oh that. Damn, I forgot all about that shit."

"You were really stupid, thinking it would actually work. I mean Kenny tried flying off the playground in kindergarten resulting in his first death, you'd think you would have remembered. Anyway, when you had the idea at first I thought it was stupid and you wouldn't actually do it. But then when you fashioned yourself wings and were on your roof ready to jump… that's when I started to worry," Stan was saying.

Cartman allowed him to go on.

"I tried to convince you not to without sounding too concerned, but I was. I didn't want you to die from jumping off your roof. It was such a stupid thing to do; I can't believe you thought it would work. When you were ready to go, I was hoping you'd come down. But then Kyle convinced you to do it," Stan growled. "I'm sorry but that pissed me off. I can't believe he wanted you to do it. He didn't care enough to prevent it from happening. He really wanted you to jump!"

"That fucking Jew! And people wonder why I hate his guts so much?" Cartman made a fist.

"I know," Stan said softly. "But, yeah. I was scared for you then. But after you jumped I had to walk away. If anyone saw that I was any bit concerned… I didn't want them to know how much I was hoping you wouldn't do it."

Cartman blinked. "You… really cared about me?"

"That's not the only time," Stan told him. "When you were nine and- and you contracted AIDS…"

Cartman's eyes turned to slivers. "Didn't I tell you to never remind me of that shit ever again Stan?"

"Do you want more proof I've cared about you for years or not?" Stan raged.

"Fine, go on," Cartman rolled his eyes.

"When you had AIDS… that was so scary. I told you before it was sort of ironic for you but I don't want you to think for a second I thought you deserved it. It's AIDS; it's a very serious disease. I couldn't believe it when I found out," Stan struggled to say.

Cartman squeezed his hand. "You were worried for me?"

"Totally dude. I mean, how could you not be? If you found out a friend has been diagnosed with something you worry."

Cartman sighed heavily like an elephant. "When we were four, I can still remember when I found out you were diagnosed with asthma. That scared me a bit too. I don't remember too much about what my mom told me but I do remember her telling me you now have a life-long illness that there is no cure for. It scared me too. But, well, I was four; I didn't think much of it. But it scares me far more now than it did ten years ago, knowing what it means and all the attacks that I've witnessed."

Stan smiled slightly. "See? You can't help but feel bad. Sure you've been a dick to everyone but have I ever gone to bed thinking 'please god, give Cartman a terminal illness. Please oh please, I want to see him suffer.' Hell no because I don't _want_ to see you suffer. It's just not how I like revenge. Suffering doesn't do anything for me except make me feel responsible."

Cartman didn't like what he was saying now. "Are you trying to link this to me now?"

"No, you like things like that as sick as it is. Not me."

"You honestly never wanted to see me suffer?" Cartman asked shrewdly.

"Well… nothing too horrible. Just- a bruise or something. Not fucking AIDS."

"I-I was relieved to know at least you seemed to care, slightly. But only after getting pissed off at how the Jew reacted."

"I tried talking to Kyle about it after but he wouldn't listen. He still thought you deserved every bit of it. I found it uncalled for," Stan said softly before sighing. "And another time when we were nine- when you wanted to go off to Somalia and be a pirate. Another really stupid idea. But when it seemed as if you weren't anywhere around and really had gone off to Somalia… I began to worry. Kyle thought you might die there, and I know he wanted you to. But I was afraid you had really gotten into trouble. When Kyle said he wanted you to die… I mean I couldn't tell him yes or no. But that was fucking uncalled for. You did not and do not deserve to die. Damnit Cartman you don't!" Stan practically cried.

"Hey hey man, shhh…" Cartman patted Stan on the back. "I know I don't. You don't either."

Stan sniffed. "Sorry but it pisses me off when Kyle says shit like that. To this day he still thinks you deserve to be tortured. I've told him time and time again that he better accept that you and I are together or shut his fucking lip. I'm getting sick of it. 'You can't be serious Stan.' 'He's the biggest asshole in the world Stan.' 'Have you forgotten all the horrible things he's done Stan?' 'He is a fat lard ass Stan.' 'Of all people to turn gay for you choose _him_ Stan?' 'Are you _blind_ Stan?' 'He needs to jump off a cliff and _die_ Stan!'"

Cartman pulled his boyfriend in his arms to get him to calm down. "Don't think about it dude, really. Jew boy has always been a complete waste of space. Always has been."

"But he's my best friend. Nobody wants to hear things like that from their best friend."

"Well luckily I don't really have one," Cartman said half to himself, half wanting Stan to hear.

Stan looked up.

"Stan, you're my boyfriend. I don't want to think of you as my _best_ friend. It's too fucking weird."

Stan smiled and kissed him. "So, convinced yet your Majesty?"

"I'm getting there, yeah."

Stan kissed him, smiling. His retainer flashed in the light of the room. Cartman sighed.

"Stan… about your braces. I'm- I'm, oh god, I'm _sorry_ I made fun of them all this time." Clearly sorry was the last word used in Cartman's vocabulary.

Stan raised a brow. "Oh?"

"I don't know why I did it man."

"Yeah you do, because you like seeing other people suffer."

"The Jew, not you!" Cartman argued, almost pleading. "I'm really sorry I made fun of them all these years. They looked fucking hilarious on you first, but you were only twelve, going on thirteen. It stopped being funny a year ago. I don't know why I continued to do it. I got used to seeing your mouth full of metal and wires and shit over the years and well… it's kind of hot."

Stan's cheeks flushed. "Hot?"

Cartman nodded. "Yeah man. Like, you're this cool kid in school and are talented in so many things yet you have, or had, braces. Now it's just a retainer. But it's still metal in your mouth so it's still hot. I sort of wish you would fuck up your teeth somehow and have it longer."

Stan smiled as Cartman cuddled next to him. "I don't know Eric; my parents will kill me if I added onto the cost of my orthodontic care. They're already pissed off I had to have braces for an additional year and a half."

"Aww, Stan man."

"Unless you want to fork over thousands of dollars?"

"Mmm… naw."

Stan laughed. "Then sorry. But hey, I get to be rid of it for good soon enough and by my birthday I'll finally have a straight smile. Will it be hot then?"

"Let me see."

Stan took out his retainer and smiled. Cartman rolled his eyes.

"Guess so."

"You're lucky; you already have a nice smile. You'd think with all the food you ate it would be different."

"I just took better care of _my_ teeth," Cartman gloated.

Stan rolled his eyes but hung his arms around him and sat on his lap as if he were Santa.

"Hey Stan, can I also tell you right now that it makes me really happy that you've gotten my humor over the years?"

"What?" Stan frowned.

"You find things I say and do funny. Kenny thinks anything is funny but you- when I can get you to laugh, it really means something. Especially if the Jew is hanging around glaring at you for doing it," Cartman smiled darkly.

"Well it's not as if I try to laugh or find things funny. Kyle just… has a stick up his ass at times. Always has. I mean how do you not find it funny to see Mr. Staters about to take a sip from his coffee, only to find a dead rat in it instead?" Stan wondered.

"Exactly! God, we were laughing our asses off all the way to the principal. Meanwhile afro-boy sits there like a fucking douche."

"Sixth grade was fun man," Stan beamed.

"Yeah. That man was an idiot and it was so easy to pulls pranks on him."

"Really. Although the one where you called and pretended you were the police telling him his brother had died in a car crash wasn't very funny…" Stan trailed.

"Oh whatever man, that was gold. He always shits his pants." Cartman chuckled. "Re-remember when you wrote 'Kenny McCormick has gotten laid before Mr. Straters' on the whiteboard?"

Stan snickered. "Yeah, and he was looking around the class wondering who did it. It was so hard to keep a straight face. He later just gave up and acted as if it never happened."

Cartman looked at his boyfriend on his knees. "Stan, dude, it was so cool when you blew up a toilet in the boy's bathroom that one time."

"You dared me to that's why!" Stan cried.

"I know, and you followed through. It was sweet."

"Not if your mom comes to drag you out of school after, yelling at you the ride home and grounds you for two months," Stan gritted his teeth.

"It wasn't that bad."

"Try telling that to her. 'One toilet my ass Stanley!' 'You _blew up_ a toilet!' 'Where did you get those fireworks?' 'Do you really expect me to continue putting up with this kind of behavior when you're in seventh grade next year?' 'What the hell were you thinking Stanley?' God, she's almost as scary as Kyle's mom at times when she's mad," Stan said heavily.

"Yeah well, that was years ago. She's cool now."

"Really. If it weren't for my mom I wouldn't be starting pitcher on the baseball team now."

"Don't get me talking on that now Stan."

Stan smiled. "You just love when I play ball huh?"

"Yeah, it's the only thing I can do with you except video games. You pitch, I catch. I can't try and jam with you on your guitar," Cartman told him.

"I like when we play catch too. You'd make a pretty good catcher. Maybe you should sign up for the team next year."

"I don't know man… me, in sports? A Cartman listed on a sport's page in the yearbook? Never happened."

"So why does that have to mean it can never happen? Do it man, I'm sure Mr. Jimmons would love to see what you've got," Stan said encouragingly.

Cartman shifted uncomfortably. He wasn't one to receive compliments or praise from anyone.

"I don't know if I can do it man. I'd have to keep up with my grades and work out and shit. I wouldn't last a week. Plus everyone else on the team…"

"Hey, if they have a problem with you they can take it to me," Stan said firmly.

Cartman kissed him. "Thanks Stan."

"So…?"

"I'll think about it, I guess."

"Sweet."

The two stayed together like this for several minutes, Cartman enjoying Stan's arms around his neck, Stan enjoying being able to do so.

"Anything else you want to know man?" Stan finally asked, breathing in his hair.

Cartman thought. "I don't know dude, I guess I believe you've always cared about me now."

"Well think of something, I like talking about us."

"Pussy," Cartman rolled his eyes but smiled. "Fine. Oh, I know of something. Nothing huge and it isn't even really a question. I just want to tell you that I admire the fact that years ago, when the school had to change its mascot, you chose mine."

"Really?" Stan looked at him.

"Yeah man. And not just that one time, twice. You did it the first time in front of the Jew's eyes, then the second time when you had no choice but to vote."

"Well I voted for the one I wanted, and that was yours," Stan said simply.

"But you chose mine over your best friend's. It was one of those things I would have thought comes hand in hand when you have a 'super-best-friend'," Cartman's eyes narrowed.

"There isn't some- official rulebook to having a super-best-friend," Stan wiggled his fingers in the air. "It was my choice both times. You know me Eric; I'm not one to be persuaded to think by anyone else's frame of mind but my own."

"So you really thought Turd Sandwich was the better mascot?" Cartman smiled.

"Meh, kind of. They were both stupid actually. But my mom's opinion had something to do with it. When I told my parents about it that night, she said Turd Sandwich would be better because a Giant Douche was sexist. And she was right. So I voted for your stupid _Sandwich_," Stan rolled his eyes.

"Whatever dude, you thought mine was better," Cartman beamed.

"Yeah yeah," Stan passed off.

"Well? Anything else you want me to 'confess' to you _hon_?"

Stan hit him. "It's too early for pet names _Eric_."

Cartman smiled. "I've noticed you've been calling me 'Eric' lately. I like that."

"I figured I had the privilege to do so now that we're dating."

"Who said you can have that privilege Stanley?" Cartman roughly grabbed Stan's shirt and kissed him.

"Me," Stan kissed him back.

Cartman kissed him yet again. "Pussy."

"Oh shut it with the pussy thing for once fatass. I'm more than just a pussy."

"Hardly. Remember that one time last year when we were at the Denver Zoo and that one python suddenly moved to the glass of his cage? You screamed and jumped like, ten feet in the air!" Cartman erupted in laughter.

"It was so fucking close Cartman! The way it just moved- like that!" Stan snapped his fingers. "He went from being fifteen feet away to right in my fucking face!"

"And- and only two weeks ago. You had an appointment to have blood drawn but your parents couldn't take you to the clinic so you had me come with you. Oh my god that was rich," Cartman was still shaking with chuckles.

"Hey, that appointment meant something to me dumbass," Stan said through gritted teeth. "It was the first time I was really able to, you know, get comfort from you."

Cartman stopped laughing now.

"I was able to hold your hand. Your hands are so perfect to squeeze," Stan held up Cartman's left hand.

"The nurse thought it was pretty hot, remember?" Cartman smiled.

"Yeah."

"Well you're still a pussy. _My_ little pussy."

"Cartman!" Stan cried.

"Hey, you even turned into a pussy (almost) remember? When you were, what? Eight? Nine? Trying to save cows, remember?"

"Oh, that."

"So don't tell me you're not a pussy Stan."

Stan crossed his arms having nothing to say to back up his argument.

"If it helps, you can add that to your list of examples of me caring about you," Cartman whispered in his ear.

"Oh?"

"I was scared you might not make it, once you were rushed to the hospital. You grew from bad to worse with that illness instantly. The way Dr. Doctor explained it… well, let me just say I'm happy you recovered."

Stan smiled. "Thanks dude."

The two wrapped their hands over the other's face and soon they were making out. They were interrupted by the sound of the door opening and Sharon popping in.

"Stanley, I just came back from the store, can you- oh!" she gasped at seeing her son and his boyfriend spread out on his bed, Stan of course on top so he wouldn't be crushed.

Stan quickly moved off him, spitting hair out of his mouth.

"Oh, don't worry about me boys. I'm so sorry I, er- interrupted your moment," Sharon smiled.

Stan and Cartman grinned at each other.

"It's fine Mom," Stan said. "I'll help you with the groceries in a minute."

"Thanks sweetie," Sharon smiled and waved a couple fingers before going back downstairs.

"Dude, it's going to be pretty hard to do anything with your mom being so understanding about us," Cartman mentioned as Stan got to his feet.

"Well we're just going to have to find a secret spot for just us then," Stan told him, straightening out his socks.

"Will we?" Cartman sounded intrigued.

Stan sighed. "Happy we finally got some things off our chest?"

"Guess so. I knew you already liked me all those years but, it still feels better to hear it from your own mouth," Cartman passed off.

"Same. Some of them were surprising. It feels really good knowing how guilty you felt after I suffered that horrible asthma scare when I was nine."

"And how you didn't think I deserved to catch AIDS."

Stan smiled. "C'mon Eric, let's help my mom with the groceries."

"Why?" Cartman complained as Stan tried to pull him up.

"Becuuse I'm sure she will reward us with homemade brownies after."

"I'm there man!" Cartman ran out the door after Stan, but not before the shine of Stan's retainer caught his eye on the bedside table. He smiled and picked it up; Stan was just so sexy with metal in his mouth, no way was he going to allow the skinnier of the two forget it. Stan was his, his perfect everything and after today, that foundation between them only proved it. He _did_ deserve Stan and he wasn't about to let that go in a hurry. Stanley Marsh, his perfect everything.

_I hope you liked the sequel. I enjoy writing Stan and Cartman so much; I really want to do more. So you can rest assure there will be more Stanman in the perceivable future! They are the only ship in SP I care about at the moment; there is just way too much Style going round the fandom right now. Anyway, please do leave reviews, thanks so much!_

_Lots of love: Rose, October 16__th__, 2010_


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